Page 7 of Mafia Boss's Fake Fiancée

I dig through the closet,trying to find a dress that doesn’t look like something someone would wear to church.

No luck.

Everything is so plain and boring, and there are way too many turtleneck sweaters. What the hell was Salvatore thinking? I don’t really like too revealing clothes either, but what is too much is too much.

Either get me something casual and comfortable, or give me a stylish, modern, elegant dress. It’s as if Salvatore found exactly everything I would never wear and stuffed the closet with it.

But maybe there’s something that can be done about that if I find a knife or a pair of scissors somewhere. I doubt Salvatore will let me go shopping, so I’ll have to make some adjustments on my own. Maybe I should threaten him with going downstairs naked for his whole family to see, but he knows I’m not that brave or crazy like him.

He’s in the bathroom, so I can probably slip downstairs. There should be a knife in the kitchen. As I’m about to pass the bathroom door, I realize it’s cracked open.

I can hear the water running in the shower, so I take a peek through the door. My breath catches in my chest. Salvatore is way better looking than he should be.

His strong, muscular, and lean body is marked with tattoos and scars. I bite down on my lip as heat spreads through me. If only he were someone else...

He turns around, meeting my gaze, and a smile spreads across his face. “Want to join me?”

I quickly slam the door closed. I bet he left it open on purpose. Ugh! He’s so infuriating, but his cock...

Nope. I’m not thinking about Salvatore’s cock or his gorgeous body. And I definitely don’t want to run my fingers over his tattoos and scars.

Nope.

Nope.

Mm-hmm.

Never.

I dash out of the room and into the hallway. Once I’m downstairs, it’s easy to find the kitchen because the door is open. I go through the drawers and find the scissors.

A smile spreads across my face. Now I need to find someplace to hide them so that Salvatore doesn’t figure out I have them.

* * *

I’m sittingon the bed and thinking about which dress I’ll ruin when Salvatore walks out of the bathroom only wearing a towel. My jaw goes slack as I stare at the droplets of water that are still gliding down his skin.

I want to lick them off.

Oh hell.

I force my gaze away from him.

“Why didn’t you join me? We could’ve had some fun,” he says, his voice filled with amusement.

“Never.”

“Why not? I thought you liked tattooed men.”

I shoot him a glare. “I do, but I don’t like assholes who go through people’s private stuff.”

“Oh, come on. At least kiss this one.” He runs his hand through his hair and exposes a scar just along his hairline. “It’s your fault anyway.”

“If you walked into a pole while thinking about me, that’s not my fault.”

“It wasn’t a pole. It was a desk.” Something changes in his eyes.

It’s like a dark shadow that wasn’t there a moment ago. Before I can study his eyes some more, he turns away from me.

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